


The Kind of Man

by teenagewristband



Series: Something in the Water [1]
Category: A Good Day to Die Hard (2013), Live Free or Die Hard (2007), Shelter (2007)
Genre: Fest 16, M/M, Small Fandom Fest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-03-09 23:19:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3268055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teenagewristband/pseuds/teenagewristband
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for small fandom fest <a href="http://smallfandomfest.livejournal.com/"> .  The prompt was - Didn't an earlier Die Hard movie take place in LA? What if an affair John had with Zach's mother resulted in a child he never knew he had (until now): Zach.

Zach meets his father for the first time.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Kind of Man

**Author's Note:**

> I sort of ignored the Die Hards in between the first and Live Free or Die Hard. Writing this also inspired two other parts, a kind of sequel, Something in the Water, that is more Live Free and the one that came after than Shelter so that will get posted in a couple days. This does work as a stand alone.

John McClane doesn't want to be one of those people that spouts one thing until it actually happens to them and then suddenly the whole complexion of their belief changes. It does flicker through his mind ever so briefly that maybe if he'd been around...He's had the sensitivity training. He's met thousands of people over the years and he knows that's not how things work, but he can't help thinking that maybe something went wrong. 

Or not wrong exactly, but as he watches the blond who sent him the letter and the dark haired one who is the son he's only just recently found out about step into the bar and look around for him, he is reminded less of Lucy and Jack and more of Matt Farrell. 

Maybe that's the cosmic reason he'd ended up so improbably working with Matt. Their life experiences and philosophies are worlds apart, but they managed quite spectacularly together so maybe he can manage sitting across the table from the grownup son he has never met and his husband. Husband doesn't necessarily roll through his brain as easily as he would like. 

That piece of information wasn't included in the multi-page letter Shaun Anderson had sent to him. The reasons aren't hard to imagine, fear that John wouldn't take the letter seriously if that had been included or that a marriage would be the one bit of information to spook a father who has found out he has a bouncing twenty-six year old. But as Matt had said when John handed the letter to him to get a second opinion, he couldn't imagine a guy writing such a heartfelt letter on behalf of another guy unless he was getting something out of it, like getting to sleep with his friend's sister or _something_.

 

The kid, his son, Zach had put the or _something_ on the table immediately. Shoulders straight, rigid posture, his hand firmly clutching the blond's, he'd introduced them as Zach and Shaun Anderson. Boy, was there a lot going on there, John thought as he rose immediately, extending his own hand. The take me for who I am and here it is bravado rolling off his offspring in waves was to be expected. Well-versed in the art of passive-aggressive marriage communication, McClane also recognized Zach Anderson was angry with his husband. Clearly we're gonna need some alcohol McClane thinks.

 

“First round is on me,” McClane, says as he motions the server to their table. 

Moments later with the drinks between them they make some obligatory small talk. The letter writer Shaun asks John about his flight, his hotel, the weather. John's youngest just sort of nurses his beer and makes the kind of contributions to the conversation that take the minimum effort. He nods his head in the right places, makes noises that could be considered either yes or no. It's amusing in its way. When their first beers are just about empty, John lifts his hand to order the second round, but Shaun interrupts him.

“I'll get this one,” there's just a hint of apology in his voice which is apparently a last straw of sorts. “Excuse me,” The young man bolts from the table. _“Zach_ ,” Shaun half rises to stop him, but Zach raises his hand to hold him in place, “I'll be back, I just need -” Shaun nods and lets him go. When the server comes back to the table he orders second beers for all three of them. If John hadn't already figured the blond for an optimist he certainly did now. 

“Sorry, about that,” he says after he completes the order. He traces patterns in the water ring on the table left behind by his beer.

“Shit happens,” John answers. “How long you and Zach been married?” 

“Five years. We were together for a year before that.”

“How , _old_ are you?” The other man's eyes widen in surprise, then settle into a kind of defiance. 

“Look you're the one that invited me into your life, so here I am.”

“I would never do anything to hurt him.”

“Except that you two have been fighting. You had a fight before you got here. He just walked out on you.”

“I think he walked out on both of us.”

“Well he left you with the father-in-law you just met. Who may or may not be happy with some pretty obvious cradle robbing. He knows I'm armed and dangerous right?”

His new son-in-law has the good sense to duck his head in surrender.

“Touché.” They both sip their beers in silence for a few minutes. 

 

“This is Cody.” Shaun offers his smartphone across the table to McClane who laughs at him and makes no move to pick it up. 

“I keep pictures in my wallet where they're supposed to be.” 

“Oh, okay. You really are a grandpa then.” Shaun takes the phone back, starts to scroll through the pictures so that John can see.

“He was six when Shaun took over his custody. I didn't think Jeanne -

“That the sister?”

“Yeah, I didn't think she would do that. I don't know what would have happened if she'd tried to get Cody back, but when we wanted to make it legal she didn't fight us.”

“He doesn't resent her for that.” 

“She's his sister. She did the right thing.”

She gave up her kid.”

“You probably see that a lot though, parents who shouldn't be. It would have ruined Zach's life not to have him.” 

The absolute resolve behind those words stops McClane's line of questioning on the subject. He makes a mental note to do a background check on the sister. Legality and paperwork are fine, but it won't entirely prevent a bad penny from turning up unannounced, even years down the line.

They sit in silence a little more as the noise of the other patrons swell around them. Considering the circumstance the silence isn't exactly uncomfortable. It surprises both of them.

“This is worth it to you to have to sleep on the couch.”

The answering smile is bright and happy. Blonde, McClane thinks.

“He's the best thing to ever happen to me and I know I'm a good thing that happened to him but his husband shouldn't be the only person he has to confide in... or related to his husband. My little brother is his best friend. I don't want him to feel trapped. He should always feel like he can get out, get away if he has to. 

“Yeah,” John agrees as he downs the last of his second beer. He only really had Holly and when the marriage started to fall apart he didn't have anywhere to turn. Maybe that would have made a difference. 

“And if something happens to us, Cody needs to know he has family.”

John doesn't bother pointing out the obvious.

************

McClane finds Zach leaning against the exterior wall of the bar watching the traffic go by. John's approach is met with a baleful glare.

“Look kid as near as I can tell you've got things under control. I don't know what the equivalent of whipped is, but your guy he's pretty far gone. He didn't do this to hurt you. If you're gonna be mad, be mad at the guy you've never met before.”

“I'm not mad at my husband.”

“You're out here on the sidewalk and you left him in there with a stranger. With _me_.Were you hoping I'd beat him up.” 

The flush of guilt colors Zach's cheeks and spreads down his neck. His glance darts to the inside of the bar then down to the sidewalk.

“No, I don't want you to beat him up. Really. Is that your thing? You like to hit people?”

McClane sidesteps the bait. “Had some run ins did you? You are mad.”

“I'm not mad.”

A we're all pals here smile splits McClane's face. “Great no one's mad. When do I get to meet my grandson.” He watches closely as a quick series of emotions flash across the young man's face. From startlement, to the anger McClane knows is crawling underneath his skin, to fear. The fear surprises the cop. 

“Look kid this only goes as far as you want it to. I didn't come out here to blow up your life. But it's not every day you find out you've got a grown kid. I couldn't not come. The way things happen in life, I learned maybe the hard way I gotta take advantage of the moments when I have them. Especially with my kids.” 

Zach's eyes flick quickly over McClane's face before settling on a crack in the sidewalk.

“Shaun's the only person I've been able to trust in a long time not to let me down. Not let Cody down. It's small, but our family works. It was hard at first and Shaun, he's so...amazing. But it works now, we worked out the shit together and I can't -.” When he looks at John there's pleading now with the fear. 

“I can't.”

His son's husband is right. The kid in front of John, who has taken on responsibility that should never have been his, needs all the family he can get. He thinks of Lucy and how much she'd enjoy having another sibling, especially a younger sibling and a nephew. She would be an actual sister to Zach. 

Jack...He and his oldest son are still mostly estranged. It's odd to think of Jack as his oldest son and therein lies the problem. The Fire Sale helped him and Lucy get over their bullshit, he's had no such opportunity with Jack. This sort of news on top of the strain...It's not his intention to disrupt Zach Anderson's life. Lucy would be overjoyed and maybe a little overwhelming in the situation, but Jack is an unknown variable. A potentially hurtful variable. There's a fragility in his relationship with his first son that's he's not sure can survive the existence of a second son. 

Fishing a card out of his pocket, McClane hands it to his youngest. It's the one he hands to crime victims who need more of a personal touch. 

“These are my particulars. Home phone is on the back. If you want to talk more, if you want to meet your half sister and brother down the line...whatever you need kid. I'm here. In New York obviously, but here.”

The relief that washes over the young man's face as he takes the card is like a physical presence between them. John understands it's for no other reason than that he's leaving.

Honestly, John feels a tension go out of his own shoulders. He'd tried to prepare himself in advance for the different ways this could go down. It's been awkward, but as scenarios go this one hasn't been bad. He'd most feared Zach would ask McClane about the time with his mother. Sadly the truth of the matter was it had taken John a few moments to call up what Zach's mom looked like. If there hadn't been a picture in the letter it might have taken longer to place her.

In the intervening years, McClane had received letters and pictures from people in the tower who'd managed to track him down in spite of his best efforts to remain out of the public eye. There have been thank you notes and multi-generational family pictures from hostages grateful for what McClane had done, saving them, thereby saving their future generations. He'd gotten lots of pictures of other people's grandkids and multiple invitations to high school and college graduations and weddings. Shaun's letter had been thicker than most.

Called back to Los Angeles to answer even more questions for the various alphabet agencies about Nakatomi and Gruber, that time hadn't been the best in his life. He suspects it hadn't been in hers either. She'd been wearing a wedding ring, but so had he. He did remember spending a week with Zach's mom, not all of it entirely sober. Which considering they'd met in a bar.... 

He's grateful not to have had to tell any version of that to his son.

************

Shaun flags the waiter down and orders another beer. Neither he nor Zach are driving. He'd suggested this bar because it was low key and walking distance from their house. He'd wanted Zach not to feel trapped or any more trapped.

In addition to the custody agreement, they'd also gotten Jeanne to give over any interest in the house. That had been more of a fight than getting full custody of their son. They'd used the advance for Shaun's third book to move Zach's dad into a facility that could better care for him. They'd rented it for a few years, but that was kind of a hassle.

It was in cleaning out the house, to finally put it on the market, they'd found the pictures of Zach's mother and John McClane. Then they'd found the never sent letter, addressed in care of the NYPD. 

McClane is exactly the way Shaun thought he would be, very real, solid. Good looking. Zach's apple hadn't fallen far from that tree.

He has to resist the urge to take out his phone and jot down notes about the guy, because yeah it's a serious and important thing that's going on right now, but at the same time the guy would make a hell of a character. Under different circumstances he'd probably be picking McClane's brain. He chooses to count it as a good sign that neither Zach nor McClane have come back into the bar. 

He'd done what he thought necessary even though his other half was still pretty pissed at him. The rest was up to father and son.

They have been fortunate in their relationship. They've been on the same page about most things. This thing with John McClane, is the first time there's been any real wedge between them. Generally, it's them against the outside world, especially since they'd gotten married. It's ironic because the being married is what made contacting McClane essential. 

The revelation of his parentage sent Zach into a six month tailspin. For the most part Shaun bore the brunt of the abrupt mood changes, short temper and distance. Then one day Zach forgot to pick up their son from school. The panicked call from from Cody, who was afraid Zach had been in an accident, was a wake up call for Shaun. 

Finding and contacting McClane had almost been an act of self-defense, self-preservation. Shaun wanted to be able to reassure his husband _I know the foundation of your life has taken a serious hit, but at least McClane seems like a good guy_. There was a lot of finger crossing that would actually be true. As he researched McClane in the Los Angeles Times microfiche archives at the Central Library, he discovered that Zach's biological father might indeed be a stand-up guy.

The letter, although not his original intention, seemed like a natural progression once he'd read about the Nakatomi tower incident. His husband hadn't had an overabundance of stalwart people in his life. The info that Shaun was able to run down on McClane suggested he could be at least that for Zach. If Zach could see his way through the hurt from what his mother had done.

Like the letter Zach's mom had never mailed, Shaun addressed his in care of the NYPD. He'd briefly considered the immediacy of e-mail, but found that he'd had some unexpected anger of his own to process. Snail mail gave him time as well.

************

“Sorry I've been an asshole for like a year.” Shaun looks up as his husband flops down in the chair he vacated earlier. Shaun says the first thing that comes into his mind.

“I love you.” The smile that breaks across Zach's face propels Shaun to loop his foot around the leg of the chair pulling it close enough for him to lean toward Zach. He's met halfway. The kiss is meant to be light, a checking in. It starts that way, but that's not how it ends. Zach moans into the mouth against his before pulling away and pressing their forehead together.

“I gotta piss. Be right back.” The smile that prompted the kiss flits across Zach's face again as he gets up. 

“Hurry back.” Shaun watches his husband's ass as it disappears into the back of the bar. He counts to thirty in his head before placing his empty on the table. Their first year together had been kind of tumultuous and hectic with trying to figure out their living arrangements, Zach's school and maintaining a consistently stable environment for Cody. Once they got a handle on those things, they were able to focus on their dynamic as men crazily attracted to and in love with each other.

Leaving his empty on the table, Shaun trails in the direction Zach disappeared. It's still fairly early. The bar is lightly crowded and the area near the bathroom which also seems to include the only remaining payphone in the world is pretty empty. The bathroom is empty too except for the the Vans Zach is wearing visible beneath the last stall door, facing in the wrong direction. 

With a grin on his face, Shaun pokes the door open with his forefinger. Slouched against one side of the stall, facing the opposite wall Zach fixes a half-lidded smile on his husband. He is a completely different man than the one who originally walked into the bar to meet his biological father. 

“What took you so long?” His hand dips just into the top of his jeans.

“We can be home in five minutes.”

“Yeah,” Zach answers as he flicks open the top button of his jeans. Shaun steps inside the stall and locks the door. One of the things they discovered when they were able to have actual date nights is that Zach has a thing for hooking up in bathroom stalls. They christened a lot of clubs, bars and restaurants in their first year and a half together. It's been a few years since the last time. It wouldn't do for either of them to be arrested for public indecency. Every once in a while though...Shaun crowds up against his husband and takes over the work of unzipping his jeans and sliding his hand against the erection that's starting to strain against his fly. 

“You sure?”

“Come on Shaun.” 

So he does. It's risky, it always was, but there is no way that Shaun wouldn't give Zach this. Let him let go like this. Not after the way the day started. He's not that kind of guy.


	2. Something in the Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's sons have more in common than he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I turn everything to angst, I can't help it.

Given the nature of his life and work, John McClane doesn't think he has ever literally been in a situation where he could hear a pin drop. There's always some noise, some sound that penetrates his cop consciousness, a state of perpetual alert so that nothing can truly get by him. This is a hallmark of sorts, though he thinks he'd prefer to wipe _this_ entirely from his mind.

If any of Matt Farrell's neighbors are in the market to test the silence by dropping pins on their hardwood floors, hell even on their carpets now is the time to do so. John McClane stares at his first born son, Jack, with nothing but a bright white towel wrapped around his waist, standing in the partially open doorway of Matt Farrell's apartment. 

“Oh, I thought you were the pizza guy,” his son says as if that offers an actual explanation. John takes exaggerated looks to his left and his right before focusing on the son that has never met Matt Farrell. At least that's what John would have said two minutes ago if asked. 

 

“Hey baby is that the -”, Farrell's eyes meet his over Jack's right shoulder. He falters in his tracks. 

“Uh,” Matt says and then -

“Meet me at the diner on the corner,” Jack says just before he closes the door in his father's face.

§§§§§§§§§§

The waitress recognizes John from the other times he's been there, mostly with Farrell. She seats him at what is more or less their regular booth, in the back so McClane can watch the room and Farrell can break out his laptop and work on whatever his latest incomprehensible project happens to be.

There's just enough time for John to order black coffee, before his middle son comes through the door. Jack doesn't exactly look guilty as he steps over the threshold. John reads defiance in the set of Jack's shoulders, his stride as he makes his way to the table. There's a moments hesitation before he sits down. Like John he'd prefer not to have his back to the room, but that would mean he'd have to sit next to his father. John smirks. He doubts his son is quite man enough for that right now. When he does take the place across from his father, he lets his body turn sideways so that he can still watch the door. For a moment John wonders if he's looking for Farrell.

“Did you order?”

“Coffee, not sure I want anything else on my stomach right now.”

“Right,” Jack replies evenly as he lifts his hand to signal the server. Both of them mostly concentrate on watching the door until their coffees arrive. 

“The hell are you doing here Jack?”

The younger McClane takes his time. Sips his coffee, sets it deliberately on the table before plastering an easy smile on his face.

“I met Zach a couple of weeks ago.”

 

Again, not the response he was expecting. That was something McClane had been able to do the right way. After he and Jack reconnected in Russia he'd been able to sit down with Jack and Lucy and tell them about their younger sibling and his family. Both of them had been understanding and kind. John hadn't realized how much he'd needed that acceptance from his children until it happened. The progress they'd made in their relationship was precious to him. 

Whatever concerns he'd had about how Jack would take the news had been unfounded, but those concerns were based on who he thought Jack was pre-Russia. He hadn't really had any idea who his son was. As he looks at Jack on the opposite side of the table sipping his coffee and still surreptitiously glancing at the door, he acknowledges to himself that he still doesn't.

“I hadn't seen mom in a couple months, so I was going to do that and realized she and my brand new brother actually live fairly close to each other so I texted him. He's a good kid. We spent a couple days together talked, about a lot of things. Shaun's a good guy.”

“Yeah I know all that. And yet none of that explains what just went down at Farrell's, does it?”

A sheepish smile flits across Jack's face which disconcerts his father. The last time there was anything sheepish about Jack he was sixteen and it involved porn. Jack has stopped watching the door in favor of staring into his coffee. Uh oh McClane thinks.

“Zach and I hung out, surfed. Pretty much his kid out surfed us both, but you know we're standing there on the beach while Cody's on the water and this guy walks by in a wet suit. Good looking guy. Zach looks.”

McClane watches fascinated as the tips of his son's ears turn red. “ _I_ look. We catch each other looking. And Zach says I'm married, not dead and I say I'm not dead either.”

Jack lifts his eyes from his coffee and meets his father's. “Zach's the first person I've ever really said it out loud to like that. Matter of fact. Not as part of an official disclosure. It felt good.”

“It's in your jacket?”

“Not where any asshole can see it, but yeah I disclosed. I didn't want anyone to have that kind of professional leverage over me.”

Pride wells in McClane. 

“It's a nice little set-up he and Shaun have.” The wistfulness in his son's voice replaces the pride with guilt. It will ever remain a source of sadness for McClane that he was unable to keep his job from so deeply affecting his family life. 

“And you here with Farrell calling you baby works into this how exactly? How are you at Farrell's for what, at least a day and I don't know.”

The smile that nearly splits his son's face manages to be both shit eating and still shy around the edges.

“I know I just put a lot on the table, but I can't really give you anymore right now. This had been a good week for me. It's been a long time.”

 

Pain flickers across his face. The fragility of the connection John re-established with his son post-Russia, feels suddenly very more so. The years they didn't talk can never be fixed. McClane thinks about Russia and what could have happened if his son had been on that mission alone, tries not to think about all the other assignments where he _has_ been alone, where he will be alone. The saying any port in the storm pops into his head. He immediately clamps down on it. He doesn't want to think of Jack or Matt using each other in that way. It's weird and profoundly uncomfortable.

There are things that he wants to say, thinks definitely need to be said, but for right now he elects to drink the rest of his coffee. Jack picks up his cup as well. It's ironic he's in more or less the exact same place with the Jack as he is with Zach.

§§§§§§§§§§

“Jack is the nickname for John. It's an easy slip.”

There isn't really any other way to describe it, Jack has been weird since he came back from talking to his dad. Matt sort of expected the elder McClane to come back with guns blazing or at the very least, figuring out how to text so he could blow up Matt's phone with angry, finger shaking threats about Farrell deflowering or corrupting his son. Which if anyone is doing the corrupting it's Jack and his magic fingers. Instead it's been radio silence. 

This weirdness with Jack is apparently his proxy. They've been having this conversation (fight) in small ways for a day. Matt's kind of had enough. 

“Yeah, except no one calls me John. You don't even call me John.”

“Well no, not after you freaked out. Look Jack this has nothing to do with your dad. Your dad is old. He listens to CDs. If he had the internet he'd probably still have dial-up.”

That gets the smile out of him Matt was hoping for. 

“Did working with your dad during the Fire Sale show me that neanderthals like the ones that use to kick my ass routinely in middle school aren't all assholes, yes. Did it show me I could find common ground or hold my own, yeah. Did it give me the confidence to climb into the lap of a particularly hot neanderthal and grind my ass into his crotch until he had the good sense to put his tongue in my mouth. Hell, yeah. Does it mean said neanderthal is a placeholder for a player to be named later? No. The only McClane I want is right here.”

“John is -”

And there's the straw.

“Get out,” Matt says quietly. 

“What?”

“Get out. If you're gonna do this, I need you to leave. Right now.” 

To say that it was a surprise when Jack McClane appeared out of nowhere on his doorstep is a massive understatement. Especially since the other man hadn't _just_ shown up. Jack McClane had shown up, and knocked imperiously on Farrell's door like the government agent he was. Only Matt hadn't really known that at the time. All John McClane had said when he returned from Russia is that he and his son had done a little sight seeing and taken the first steps to mend their estrangement. Matt should have known there was more to it than that.

The tone of the knock did immediately remind him of his first encounter with a certain NYPD cop a few years before. Apparently, a type of knock can run in the family. 

The deja vu extended when he looked through his peephole to find a good looking guy, with close cropped hair, wearing a form fitting short sleeved t-shirt standing in front of door. The guy had looked right at the peephole and smiled. “It's Jack McClane, we haven't met, but you helped my dad and sister out of a bit of a situation.” 

McClane understatement, Farrell thought as he unchained and undeadbolted the door without hesitation. It only occurred to him later, that it could have been a trick or a con. That some leftover 'evil henchman' from the Fire Sale out for vengeance might have been on the other side of the door impersonating Jack McClane. 

The younger McClane came in asked for his phone and proceeded to order two large pizzas with everything on it. Then he'd smiled and asked Matt if he wanted to order anything. The smile disarmed. Truth be told so had the way he'd ordered food.

Later over the pizzas and the Chinese Matt had added to the order, Jack asked him about the Fire Sale, asked him to start at the end and work his way back. Farrell had tried to keep his account as general as possible. John McClane's son or not he was still talking to a civilian. But as he talked, with things he left intentionally vague or didn't know like the specific type of weaponry that had been used, Jack nodded with knowledge and filled in the jargon in a kind of subtle _I know this shit better than you do_ way that was more than just a guy who had a cop for a dad. It was experiential. It struck Matt that Jack McClane was a real honest to God spook. Or spook adjacent. 

Farrell had never been a person with much patience for the stupidity or incompetence of his fellow humans. During the Fire Sale, he had learned all sorts of things about himself that he's certain would never have come to light were it not for the extreme circumstance. It turned out, he maybe had a competency kink. The elder McClane, Thomas Gabriel, Mai even that asshole Emerson. They were good, but on the day he and John McClane had ultimately just been better. It left a mark. 

“What do you want me to do?” There's a kind of sorrow in Jack's voice. It hurts Matt to hear. It's been a week since agile hands and nimble fingers first undressed him. He'd made the first move, but Jack had thoroughly taken over, bringing him to an unexpectedly intense orgasm on his couch only hours after they met. 

Brushing his fingers across Jack's forehead, Matt smiles softly as he tries to smooth away the distress of the man he may have started to think of as his.

“You know what I want, but you're making it weird.”

The distress breaks apart into a sexy, predatory smile. And Farrell knows what's coming.

Jack goes low and scoops him up in a fireman's carry which gives Matt a great, although headrushing view of his lover's ass. “For the record, I call your dad McClane.”

§§§§§§§§§§

“What are you doing with my kid?”

It's been a week since Jack admitted he and his younger brother had more in common than Mclane would have thought. Fortunately, well not for the vics, but there was a double homicide that helped keep McClane distracted for much of the week. The perp had decided she didn't want to be taken alive. Lots of bullets, hours and paperwork in triplicate later, John had a hole in his schedule. From habit he'd reached for his phone, his number hitting the speed dial for Farrell before he'd given it conscious thought. When he realized what he'd done he considered hanging up or trying to pass it off as a pocket dial. Instead he'd growled, “The diner in an hour.”

He'd figured the odds were probably even as to whether Matt and Jack would show up together or Jack would show up on his on his own to read McClane for summoning Farrell. McClane was genuinely surprised to see Matt come through the diner's front door alone. Maybe because he was still a little keyed up from the shootout, not even one hundred percent sure what day it was, he grit out the question like an accusation before Matt even really had the chance to slide into the booth. 

Farrell smirked at him. 

“First I'd like to point out that Jack is an adult. A pretty adult, adult I might add given what he's allowed to do professionally. Second, I'm not sure it's any of your business what we're doing.”

“I didn't know you swung that way.”

“What way? McClane? I definitely swing Mc -

“Goddamn it Matt that's my kid.”

It was a testament to how comfortable they were with each other that Farrell didn't flinch at all. He just drew himself out of the casual slump he'd effected and glared across the booth at McClane.

“Two things McClane. I met a guy. It's new. I like this guy and so we're working through some things. Not the least of which is he can just be called away without telling me where he's going or when he's coming back, because the government does tricky shit like that. The second, this is an invasion of his privacy. And you know that's something I'm not about. I'm sorry, truly, that you found out the way you did. But no.”

That settles between them. John had no idea his son was on assignment again. “When did he leave?” 

“Two days ago. I woke up and he....there was a note. Succinct, national security in no way compromised.”

 

Of course they were there when Matt sat down, but mired in his own exhaustion and irritation John hadn't paid much attention. The dark smudges under his eyes said that he hadn't had much sleep as did the prominent red of his eyes. Ordinarily, John thought he would have attributed it to Farrell's work, but now there are other closer to home possibilities. This shit, John may actually be too old for. 

“Okay kid.” 

All of John McClane's children are adults now. He's a grandfather for fucks sake. It's one thing to ride roughshod over terrorist trying to ruin the world, but none of those tactics are remotely effective with his family or friends. 

For now, he will ignore the elephant in the diner. He will not mention that since spending time with his youngest son and his husband, watching them together, it's shown something in his friendship with Matt Farrell he knows he never would have twigged to on his own. 

The way Farrell looks at him sometimes is the way his son Zach looks at his other half. The detective understands the components of hero worship. He's encountered it in a variety of forms over the years. Understands there are elements of it in his youngest's marriage, but he's spent enough time with them over the last year and a half to know it's more than that between the Andersons. That admiration is mutual, definitely not the foundation for their marriage. 

With Farrell, he figured the hero worship would fade the more he realized the asshole John could be wasn't limited to terrorist situations. The kid pretty much gives as good as he gets now so John figured their friendship had achieved pretty equal footing. This development with this eldest and Farrell, however, has blown a hole in that assumption. This situation has all the earmarks of a disaster in the making.


	3. Like Father Like Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John tries to inject some common sense into the situation.

It's probably the most bizarre three a.m. call, he's ever had and that's saying something.

“McClane, can you come over in a couple of days or so? I mean not tonight, but you know in a couple of days. Jack's here. But um, yeah just in a couple of days give me a call, maybe come for lunch or something. And bring food. Pizza would be good, maybe soup.”

 

McClane's barely in the apartment before, "I'm pretty sure he's here AMA and I'm in love with him like. Not get married in Vegas behind your family's back so it's a done deal before they can object married, but middle of Central Park in white tuxedos and doves where you're willing to let your family come and take the chance someone might object, but really hope they won't because, because...you want them to be happy for you married."

“Matt when was the last time you slept?” 

The kid blinks at him owlishly. McClane tries again. “How many days ago did Jack get here?”

“Three I think.”

“Yeah, so you've probably been up like four. You need to sleep.”

“I don't want to jostle him or wake him.”

“There's a pull out in your office Matt. Pull it out, sleep on it.”

He wavers. “I was looking after Jack long before you were in short pants. I got this Matt. It's okay.” 

“Thanks McClane.” 

John watches his friend sort of lope off down the hall. The revelation flows through him that he just had to get Matt Farrell to stand down to be allowed to look after his own son. Yeah there was the babble about getting married, which John is pretty sure is too establishment for Matt so he chooses to ignore all of that. It's just another indication that the situation has spiraled out of control. 

 

The rise of his son's chest is steady. Although the way he's propped on the bed looks kind of awkward. His right arm is in a sling, but from what John can tell in the light of the room his features looked relaxed. There's minimal bruising. He's left more than one hospital himself AMA so he gets that. If you're well enough to walk out, you're well enough to leave.

McClane has fallen into a light doze, when he hears his name.

“Hey, John? Where's Matt.”

“Stop moving around so much. Florence Nightingale is on a break.” 

“That's good I tried to get him to take a nap earlier, but he wouldn't stop hovering. I'm not really in any shape to force the issue.”

With a quick glance to the door, John settles back in the bedside chair.

“So this is still a thing huh?”

The lamp on the nightstand provides just enough light for John to see his son's expression ripple, before it smooths out into a placid mask. 

“Yeah, John it's still a thing.”

John slumps forward. This needs to be handled delicately and John is not a delicate guy. But this situation, that it's still going on is a problem. That Farrell has exhausted himself into incoherence with nursemaiding, that his son probably has his choice of safe houses to choose from has chosen this apartment to go to ground, to lick his wounds...McClane feels suddenly caught in a deja vu from his marriage to Holly. 

“He's a civilian.”

“His security clearance is higher than mine.”

“Yeah,” John can't help but laugh at that. “Let him go Jack.”

 

The springs in the mattress creak as Jack shifts to a more upright position. John watches quietly. He can now see there's bandaging on Jack's hip. It's a little unfair to do it this way with his son at less than full capacity. But maybe this way his defenses are down just enough he'll use his common sense. He wonders if it would have served his family better if someone had taken him aside in the early days and told him his chances of things working with Holly. It might not have made a difference, he loved her. He doesn't regret his kids, but they all could have done with a little less pain along the way. 

“What the fuck John? You're trashing him in his house?”

“Matt is my friend. I owe him. This isn't trashing him.”

“This doesn't sound friendly.”

“You want me to wait until you fuck it up and I have to hold his hair back while he's busy trying to puke up a lung because he tried to drown his sorrows. He can't hold his liquor for shit.”

 

“That definitely doesn't sound friendly. This the kind of bullshit you're putting in his ear when I'm not around?”

“Why aren't you around son? What does that look like for the next five years. I mean is this what you intend to do. Show up, let him run himself ragged.”

“You son of a bitch.” 

Jack makes to get out of the bed, to come for John. John rises for the occasion just as...

“What's going on in here. I mean it might be kind of hot to watch you two assholes go at it mano y mano, but one of you manos is down a wing so it wouldn't be exactly fair.”

John glances between Jack who looks furious and whipped and Matt who looks mostly exasperated with a wicked case of bed head . “McClane out,” Matt says quiet, but firm. Throwing his hands up in surrender, John backs out of the room.

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼

“Please don't make me choose.” McClane mutes the sound on Sportscenter.

“Choose what?”

“McClane come on. How long have I known you now.”

McClane turns off the television, giving Matt his full attention. If he can't make Jack listen maybe Matt will. Afterall, he's still got a little of that hero worship mojo working.

 

“If you were my friend you would want me to have a good life with a good person.”

 

“I do want that.”

 

“You don't think your son is a good person.”

 

“I know my son is me. Which means that the way this is gonna go down won't have anything to do with how he feels about you. You're on this ride in his prime. The job will devour everything in its path. _Because_ we're friends, _because_ I owe you, I don't want to see that happen. You benefited from my experience during the Fire Sale, benefit from it in this.”

 

“You ever think that because of the way his family broke up, he might actually be better at this than you. That he learned instead of going off somewhere to be a 'man' and lick his wounds he knows it's better to come home. To me.”

To be honest, this has not occurred to McClane. 

“As my friend, I'm asking you John to, whatever your instinct is telling you to do, this time, this one time I'm asking you not to do it. If you want to stay you know where everything is. Otherwise, you can let yourself out.”

Against his will, the father in McClane is a little bit proud of both of them for standing up for the other, even if they are doomed. 

He lets himself out.


End file.
